


Absinthine HIATUS

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, But Legal Age Of Consent so, Consensual Underage Sex, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Female Protagonist, For the first year anyways, Ginny and Ron are twins, Good Tom Riddle, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, I hope, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Luna and Ginny are In the Trio's Year, Might become a series, Might not, More Likely Sixth Year, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, No Sexy Times till Fifth year at least, Not Too Squicky, Out of Character Voldemort (Harry Potter), Slytherin Ginny Weasley, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Ron Weasley, Tom Riddle | Voldemort is a Student, Underage Kissing, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: On a chilly early November night, Albus Dumbledore leaves Holly Jacaranda Potter on the doorstep of her aunt’s home and promptly forgets about her, sure that his decision is the best option for the fifteen month old savior. Seven years later, he learns how wrong he was and finds a better home for her, but he is too late. The damage has already been done.





	1. Prologue: The Girl Who Lived Under The Stairs

_**Absinthine** _

_**HoneyLatte** _

_**Prologue: The Girl Who Lived Under The Stairs** _

* * *

The third night of November, is a chilly and peaceful night. In the sky, the moon is a thick crescent, not yet full as the half moon to come in a couple days, sitting proudly amongst the thousands of glittering stars dancing merrily in the clear black velvet sky. In the distance, shooting stars fall like rain, too many all at once for it to be a natural occurrence. The stars have been falling like this for three days, and yet the stars in the sky seem not to be affected, as if the falling stars are not from the heavens they see, but from farther in the open universe. The crisp breeze pushes autumn leaves across the ground and through the pumpkin scented autumn air, but otherwise it is still and quiet.

A loud crack sounds, and a rather strange man appears on the empty street known as Privet drive. It is a dull sort of street, the houses uniform in their boring suburban rows. It is the last place one would ever expect anything extraordinary to happen, and yet something very extraordinary is happening indeed. He is joined by a woman who had only just been a cat, and a giant of a man on a roaring motorbike them from the sky. They are there for five minutes at most, vanishing into the night the in the same ways they had arrived, in reverse order of the ways they had come. In their wake a fifteen month old girl is left on the doorstep of number four, shivering in the chilly fall breeze and stirring fitfully in her sleep, unaware of her fame, or that she will be awakened by the screams of her aunt in the morning. As for those who left her, it takes seven years for the events of this night to come back to haunt them.

\--

In her earliest memory, Holly is four years old and still living with the Dursleys.

Of course, she has some memories from before then, but they are blurry and vague sort of memories, more like a story she's heard too many times than something she'd actually lived. There are no feelings attached to these memories, and the memories themselves are broken and confusing, as if she is viewing them from underwater as she tries to recall them. So perhaps it is not her earliest memory in the most strict definition, rather her clearest, but her earliest clear memory is the one she refers to as her earliest memory.

She's four years old in the memory, and she only knows this because she overheard her aunt and uncle whispering about her birthday a few days earlier. Her birthday had passed with no fanfare, unlike Dudley's which passed with a pile of presents so huge it took up half the dining room, and it wasn't worth remembering beyond the fact that she'd learned her birth date to be the last day of July.

Holly was doing chores, dishes as she watched the pot containing dinner simmering on the stove to be exact. She doesn't remember when she first started doing the chores, only that she couldn't have been older than two at the time, and that even though she was a toddler with no concept of chores she was still punished severely for getting anything wrong. She had to learn through a process of trial and error, punishment with no reward beyond a lack of pain, pretty quickly. At four, she knows all of her chores well enough she rarely gets punished for doing them, she usually gets them done to Petunia's high standards the first time.

Despite this, Holly was still just a child, and she could not help how sleepy and hungry she felt after three days without sleep or food. She could not control how boring dishes were to her. Holly left her dishes for just a moment, to see if she could sneak something from the fridge, but Vernon had decided at that moment to get up for a beer.

Holly would never forget the beating that followed her getting caught. It was the only time they took her to a hospital. After it was over, Vernon left her bruised broken body on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood, with a broken arm, a broken leg, and three busted ribs. She woke up in the hospital three weeks later. Petunia covered it up and said she got hit by a car.

Until three months ago, Holly would have called this her worst memory too, but that had changed when Vernon snuck into her room one night and told her _this is how father's love their daughters_ , as if he were her father and then proceeded to violate her in such a way she couldn't even think the word for fear of making it too real. It was touches at first, him forcing her to do disgusting things to him, but by the second week it evolved to him pressing her down and hurting her until he'd had his fill. It stopped when Petunia found out a week ago, but Holly still can't sleep at night for fear he will come for her. Her aunt, though there is no love between them, has been doing a good job to keep him away but Holly knows it is only a matter of time.

Vernon leers at her as she does the dishes. Holly winces. Petunia writes a letter later that night and Holly watches from the window of the smallest room as she cleans Dudley's broken toys as an owl flies away with it. She wonders.

\--

Albus Dumbledore is in  the great hall eating breakfast when he receives the letter sent to him by Petunia of all people, but he doesn't read it until he is in his study later that night before dinner. He breaks down upon reading the urgent letter, detailing how Vernon Dursley is violating the girl who lived, and he barely even notices as McGonagall steals the letter until her own sobbing joins his. He'd known life at the Dursley home would not be easy for Holly Jacaranda Potter when he'd left her, he'd known there was a likelihood they would mistreat her for her abilities, but he would have never sent a child to live with a pedophile had he been aware of what would happen to her. He's furious, at himself and at Vernon Dursley.

He doesn't wait. He doesn't answer. He simply apparates to Privet Drive as he had many years earlier. Petunia lets him into her home, there is a bruise on her left cheek and her lip is split. Vernon isn't home, a fact Albus is both glad for and disappointed by, both for the same reason. He wants to murder the man for daring to touch a girl who was not even eight when he'd started to put his hands upon her. He wants to kill him for touching the savior of the wizarding world. He wishes Holly had killed him, but at the same time is glad she did not.

Holly Potter is not the tiny carrot-top toddler he left swaddled in a thick purple blanket of the Dursley's doorstep almost seven years ago. She's a tall girl, far too thin, with a nose slightly crooked as if it were broken but not set correctly. Her baggy clothes, a white shirt far too large tied tight around her waist by a curtain cord, do nothing to hide her bruised porcelain pale skin and knobby knees, and leave far too little to the imagination. Albus has to force himself not to look away to preserve her modesty. Freckles dot her skin, a star map in reverse color of dark dots on pale skin, and they cross over her nose and high cheekbones like war paint. Her messy hair is darker than the gingery orange he left her with, now it is not quite yet the wine red of her mother's hair, but the same as Lily's had been at that young, of that he has no doubt. Too big round glasses perch on her nose, broken, cracked, and taped. Behind them are eyes just like her mother's had been, green as absinthe, but far too old and haunted for a girl so young.

Albus nearly cries, but instead he simply removes his cloak and settles it over her shoulders, trying not to flinch as deeply as she does.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore." He says, calmer than he feels. "Would you like to come with me?"

Holly looks at him with bitter harsh eyes, scrutinizing as if she is judging his very soul. "Anywhere is better than here." She answers.

Albus whisks her away to Hogwarts. Two days later he finds a place for her to go, a family he knows will be loving and light and not ruin the admittedly awful progress he has made in shaping her into a perfect weapon. It's a horrible tragedy what happened to her, but he will not let her sacrifice go to waste. He will use it to affirm her place in the light side.

Holly is eight, and for her birthday Albus gives her a new family.

* * *

_**Absinthine:**  adj - _like absinthe; bright clear green in color; having the characteristics of wormwood; bitter, harsh.

 


	2. Letters From Hogwarts

_**Absinthine** _

_**HoneyLatte** _

_**Chapter One: Letters From Hogwarts** _

* * *

Holly Jacaranda Potter opens her big green eyes, lurching up in bed with a choked off sound, a scream trapped in her throat like autumn leaves clogging up a storm drain. Her dark red hair falls in her face, damp with sweat and tangled from tossing and turning in her sleep. Her heart pounds frantically in her chest, a hummingbird trapped in her rib cage. She digs her fingernails into the skin of her arms. She can feel his hands gripping her arms, a memory ghost holding her down as he did awful things to her and treated it as if her were giving her a gift.

"Nightmare again?" the groggy but sympathetic voice of her adopted sister Ginny breaks through the haze of fear, and Holly nods before throwing herself backwards on the bed again.

"Sorry I woke you." She says, her own voice coming out cracked and exhausted. Holly throws the comforter over herself, curling up in a ball, making herself as small as she can. It doesn't stop her memories, or the feeling of her stomach curdling, but it does block out everything else around her so it is easier to force herself to breathe again.

"Vernon?" It's a question, but the tone of her voice suggests it's one she already knows the answer to.

Holly nods, though she isn't certain the movement can be seen from under her comforter. There is a shuffling sound from the other side of the room, and then her covers are being lifted. Holly shuffles to the other side of the bed, giving Ginny enough room to sneak under the covers with her. The other girls wraps herself around Holly like and octopus. Her hair fans across the pillow, a mirror of Holly's own, coppery October orange mixing in with the blood red strands of her hair on the on the black cotton of her pillowcase. She meets Ginny's gaze, soft kind gingerbread eye promising safety.

Sometimes Holly wishes she looked more like her, all warm shades of reds and browns, instead of pale and dark and cool. Sometimes she wishes she fit in better with the Weasleys, but she's too pale and her hair is too dark. She sticks out like a sore thumb, Lily's daughter through and through. There is nary a trace of James Potter in her; just the shape of her mouth, the slender curve of her nose, and the wildness of her hair keeping her from being her mother's clone. If she had more of her father in her, maybe she would be able to fit in better with the Weasleys, maybe she could pretend she belonged.

She remembers the day Albus Dumbledore dropped her off at the Weasleys as if it were yesterday. She's been so scared, frightened of what kind of people her new home would reside there. Coming home to meet them, all of them home for the occasion, she'd been so overwhelmed by the sheer number of men in the house. In the early days, Holly waited every night for someone to come for her like Vernon had, but no one ever did.In fact, no one touched her, not even hugs, without getting her permission. It took over a year to figure out that they were really safe, to start letting them in. She still has nightmares though. In the beginning they came every night, but now they only come once or twice a week. She knows she is healing with this family, but even so she sometimes wakes up and wonders if it isn't just a dream, and she'll wake up in that horrible cupboard again.

There's a clumsy knock on their door. "Breakfast." Ron's tired voice mumbles from the doorway. They can hear him leave, because he drags himself along the wall and down the stairs with fading stomps of his feet. Ron is never up before noon if he can help it, he'll wake briefly for breakfast, then go back to sleep until lunch or Molly wakes him.

"I think he's half vampire." Ginny giggles at her comment.

"Nah." She shakes her head. "He sleeps at night too. He's part slug, my twin telepathy tells me so."

Holly laughs at that. Unlike Fred and George, her older brothers and the other twins, Ron and Ginny are as different as fire and water in most aspects of their life. They are fraternal twins, Ron having blue eyes and so many freckles he looks tan, while Ginny has brown eyes, less extensive freckles, and an actual tan. They only seems to get along with quidditch and Holly, but otherwise they are night and day for the most part. Holly wouldn't doubt twin telepathy to be a thing George and Fred could have, but the idea of Ginny and Ron being able to read each others minds is so laughable it's almost uncanny.

Ginny grins as she laughs, and then starts pulling away. "Come on." She says. "I think I smell chocolate chip pancakes."

Holly reluctantly untangles their limbs and rolls out from under the covers, her body hitting the floor with a painful thud. Ginny rolls her eyes at her antics, helping her up when she comes around the other side of the bed. They get dressed. Holly dresses in a short faded black velvet skirt, opaque white tights, and an overly large knit purple sweater with a grey _W_ on the front center. It was Bill's sweater, her favorite of her adopted siblings beside Ginny, and he'd given it to her before he left for Egypt so she could feel like he was comforting her even when he was so far away. After last nights nightmare she needs comfort. Holly pulls her hair up into a bun at the base of her neck. It isn't neat, despite her efforts, but then again her hair has never been anywhere near neat in any sense of the word. Ginny is ready before her, her own hair in a sloppy high ponytail, wearing yesterdays ripped jeans, mismatched socks, and the same mud and paint stained blue blouse she has been wearing all week.

Ginny doesn't put much effort into her appearance during the summers, but considering her brothers Holly can hardly fault her for it. She thinks she'd get a lot more flack for her own attempts to look nice if it hadn't been for what she'd been wearing when she'd first came to them. Compared to the worn out hand me downs from her cousin, the shared wardrobe between the girls is perfect, even if nothing is quite new and all of her favorite blouses eventually get stained when Ginny wears them for quidditch. 

When they get down stairs Ron is already filling his plate, and judging by the smears of syrup and chocolate on his plate it isn't his first serving. "Oi! Save some for the girls." George teases.

"That's your third plate." Fred adds.

Ron pointedly steals a sausage from each of their plates, which results in a pair of syrupy soggy pancakes being squashed on either side of his face by the identical twins. Molly yells at them all, but her face is fond. Ginny laughs at her twin as she piles pancakes on both of their plates and starts to drown hers in syrup just like Fred and George do. Holly pokes at her own stack with a fork, using the tines of her fork to forage chocolate globs from the pancakes.

"You okay, sweetie?" Arthur asks, noticing her picking at her food, and Holly flushes from embarrassment and a little shame

"She had a nightmare about _him_  again." Ginny answers for her, emphasizing the word him like the word is something disgusting and horrible spat out from her mouth, and she gets sympathetic glances from around the table.

Molly used to try to force her to eat after her nightmares, but after the first month they realized it was no use to try to get her to eat anything much. "Think you could try to eat some fruit dear? Or some juice at least." She asks, and Holly nods.

Her pancakes are whisked away in seconds, and a bowl of already strawberry halves and orange slices replaces it. Arthur _accidentally_ pours some coffee in her glass and nudges the cream and sugar to her with a wink to let her know it was not actually an accident, as if she isn't used to this ritual by now. Holly smiles softly at him while Molly simultaneously pretends not to notice and frowns at her husband in disapproval. Molly doesn't believe anyone should be drinking coffee before sixteen, but that doesn't stop Arthur from sneaking it to them every so often, like when she's had a nightmare, or the older twins have been up all night making mischief.

Errol, the family owl, comes tumbling in through the open window and crashes into the pancakes, prompting a few yells from across the table. At least he got a soft landing, Holly thinks, and she picks him up and grabs some raw bacon from the counter to feed him. Molly hands out the letters, Hogwarts letters for everyone but Percy, and a letter in a thick black envelope for Charlie. Holly runs her fingers across her name and address, then opens it to read the insides as she drinks her coffee. She has been dreaming of getting this letter since she stayed at Hogwarts for those two days before she was brought here.

 

 _Dear Ms. Holly J._ _Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

On the second page is a list for her books, class supplies, and uniform. Holly commits it to memory, reading it over three times before she is interrupted by a delighted shout form Charlie. "I got in!" He crows, gleefully waving the letter at Molly. "Mom, I got in. I'm going to Romania!"

Everyone congratulates him. Charlie sent a request to join a Dragon Sanctuary the day after he had gotten home from his last year at Hogwarts. It has only been three weeks since then, and Holly is just grateful to know she no longer has to hear him pacing worriedly up and down the halls at night. She's been woken up every night since July eleventh because of his pacing, a nightmare, or both, and every night she has joined him for a late night flight or one-on-one quidditch to distract them both, him from his worries, and her from her trauma. If Molly were aware she'd probably be very cross with Charlie, and if anyone else knew they'd probably be mad for not being invited, but luckily it's their little secret. Well, Percy knows, but he didn't want to join, and he likes Holly too much to tattle on them no matter how much he disproves.

"I leave on Sunday." He tells them. A bittersweet feeling cuts through the elation. On one hand they are all happy for Charlie, on the other that means they only have two days left before he leaves for another country, to be seen who even knows when.

"You better visit." Holly says, breaking through the silence.

Charlie laughs and promises he will, and breakfast continues in peace an happiness. Holly couldn't have asked for a better family.


	3. Alleys and Allies

_**Absinthine** _

_**Honey Latte** _

_**Chapter Two - Alleys and Allies** _

* * *

It isn't as if Holly has never been to Diagon Alley. She's been to the alley almost every month since coming to live with the Weasley family, but when Molly takes them to shop for school supplies the last week before school starts there is something almost new about the whole experience. The alley itself has not changed. Perhaps it is just the realization that Holly is there for school stuff instead of bobbles and ice cream, or things the adults needed, that makes the experience seem so new, but whatever the cause it makes the girl who lived giddy with excitement.

Molly agreed, very reluctantly and with much fussing and stubbornness, to let Holly pay for the school supplies this time around, and Holly is determined to buy new stuff for everyone. They don't generally let her pay for stuff, but if she sneaks a couple galleons here and there into purses and vaults no one has to know. They are her family, and she knows they are tight as it is with the amount of kids they have. Bill is doing well, he was promoted shortly after Charlie left for Romania, and he sneaks his parents money too. Holly makes sure her money transfers at the same time, and Bill takes credit for it even though she's pretty sure no one is buying it. Holly knows they wouldn't accept her money if she were to offer it flat out, but she's not comfortable living with them and using up all their money when she knows she's got a fortune waiting for her in her trust vault alone.

The shopping expedition is a long one, with seven people searching for various school supplies, and Holly and Ginny also searching for more feminine things than the boys. Holly wants her robes to be nice, she wants her books to be neat, she wants her things to be new and pretty and nothing like what the Dursley's would have given her if it had been them here with her. She wonders if she'd have even lived long enough to come here if she had not been rescued, and it is a somber and sobering thought.

Holly notices she left her new wand in the book shop; holly, her namesake, and phoenix feather, the sister to Voldemort's own scarily enough. She separates from the Weasleys, promising to meet them to shop for quills and parchment and she heads back inside. Her wand is exactly where she thought she left it, on the check stand, and the cashier hands it too her with a smile. Harry strokes the wood reverently, trying to mentally tell her wand that she did not mean to leave it.

"Oh my god!" Holly is dragged out of her thoughts when a shrill voice cuts through the hubble of the book shop. "It's Holly Potter!"

She grits her teeth painfully, forcing herself to smile despite herself. Holly HATES crowds. She HATES being famous because her parents died defeating Voldemort, something that is always attributed to her even though she seriously doubts there is anything she could have done as fifteen months to make that something worth crediting her for. She HATES that surviving the killing curse makes people swarm around her, thanking her for her service as if she were a war witch and not an eleven year old orphan.

"Can I see the scar?" The words are shouted loudly above the shouts of the crowd by a man with a large camera, and Holly feels the ice in her veins. She is done being nice. She just wants them to leave.

"Oh you mean the mark on my forehead that only serves to remind me that my parents are dead? That scar?" she growls, glare promising death, ice in her voice. The crowd hushes instantly, many turning away guilty, others staring at the tactless man as if they had any more tact than he did. "I am trying to shop for school supplies." She says, not quite so harsh, but her voice isn't kind either. "Leave me be!"

The command works and the crowd disperses, though they stay somewhat close, whispering like angry bees in the shelves, badly pretending not to watch her. To her left someone chuckles, and Holly turns on her heel to look at the person in cold calculating curiosity. He's a tall older boy, maybe Bill or Charlie's age if she had to guess. He's thin, but not unhealthy thin, just slim with lean muscles like someone from a magazine. His skin is fairer than her own, something she'd thought an impossibility beyond someone not an albino, and his hair and eyes are both obsidian black. He's very cool, and Holly feels the blush color her cheeks cherry red despite her best efforts.

"Magnus." He introduces himself, sticking out a hand. "Magnus Lestrange."

Holly knows his name in passing. The Lestranges' were death eaters, high ranking ones, but Holly knows his name from Charlie. Charlie only mentioned him once, the summer before last. Holly knows that he was a Slytherin. He's a half-blood like her, despite the well known hatred of the Lestranges and muggles, and possibly a bastard, as if that mattered in the slightest bit. Charlie had been impressed because he had skipped two years, which was a rarity bordering on an impossibility, but he'd noted that Dumbledore seemed rather wary of him despite him being rather polite and charming for a Slytherin. If Holly was correct this year, her first, would be his last.

"Holly Potter." She responds, tentatively labeling him as nonthreatening despite what she knows of his surname in regard to dark magic. "But you already know that, Mr. Lestrange."

He takes her outstretched hand and presses a light kiss to her knuckles. "Well met, Ms. Potter."

"Holly." She tries not to let herself blush even deeper, but judging by his smirk she is unsuccessful.

"Then I insist you call me Magnus." He answers.

They are drawing attention, Holly notes, either because of the whole light side dark side contrast, or because Holly hasn't stopped blushing since she laid eyes upon the handsome older boy. Magnus leans in close so he can whisper, inciting more hissing from the hoard.

"I was just about to go pick up some owl treats." Magnus tells her. "Care to get away from all this racket?"

A part of her, probably the smart part of her, almost says no. He might not be the best sort of person to hang out with. If Ron, bless his heart, found out she was hanging out with a Slytherin willingly the boy might faint. Molly wouldn't approve solely because Dumbledore doesn't like the boy. However, Holly doesn't trust Dumbledore. He was the one responsible for her being placed with the Dursleys, and he gave off the impression that he thought Harry was more than just a sad orphan girl. He seemed to think she was in his debt for rescuing her, despite never saying those words. Holly doesn't particularly care for Dumbledore, which is why she takes the boy's offered arm by hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow. The whispers that follow them as they leave are loud and frantic, and Holly has to resist sticking out her tongue like a child younger than her age as the door closes behind them.

The owl emporium is rather empty and quiet when the go in, and for that she is grateful. Magnus lead her back to the owls, and as he checks out treats she finds herself drawn to a snowy white owl with amber eyes. The owl is pure white, completely unheard of in female snowy owls, but Holly knows without question that the owl in question is a girl. She reaches out her arm, wearing the provided gauntlet so she doesn't get her arm shredded by sharp talons, and the owl flies down.

"She's beautiful." Magnus startles her, and the owl pecks her head crossly in punishment for jumping.

"Ow." Holly pets at the owls feathers. "She is, but she's a bit more pricey than I'm allowed to spend in this store. I'm supposed to be picking up owl treats too."

Holly reluctantly lets the owl fly back up, and Magnus gives her an odd look. "Owl treats with no owl?" he teases, and she can tell from his face that he's teasing and not questioning.

"Well, we have Errol." She scratches the back of her neck, flushing with a little shame in the face of this boy dressed in such fine robes. "We sort of share him. My adoptive family isn't exactly well off. I try to help, but they don't really like it. And if I buy an owl, I'll have to buy treats and supplies and all that stuff, and then I'll spend too much and they'll be mad. I have to ask first."

Magnus hums sympathetically, but he doesn't comment. Holly, feeling suddenly self-conscious and shy, goes to look at the snakes. They whisper to her, and Holly shivers. She knows her gift is rare, something only Voldemort and the Slytherin line had. She looks around, sees no one around, and she turns to speak back to the snakes. They don't really have fascinating conversation, mostly it's them telling her to pick them, take them home, feed them. Holly wishes she could.

 _"Hello pretty ones."_ Magnus speaks, and the snakes hiss in glee.

 _"A speaker."_ They whisper. _"Another speaker."_

Holly isn't stupid. It is pretty common knowledge that Bellatrix Lestrange was horribly in lust, maybe even love, with Voldemort. It's not a hardship to put two and two together, a parselmouth and a Lestrange. There is only one explanation, well two but the other one is so ludicrous she dismisses it instantly. "You're _his_ son, aren't you?"

He looks at her, and Holly swears his eyes shine garnet before they return to obsidian. He leans closer to her, too close, and she can feel his breath on her lips as he speaks. "Would it matter?"

Holly debates for a moment. "No." She whispers, she can't get it to come out any louder. "Unless you mean to kill me."

He looks contemplatively at her, then smiles. "Not yet." He answers. Holly breathes out a laugh, and is relived when he pulls himself back to his full height, towering over her. She doesn't think he actually means to kill her, now or later, despite his little comment. "Come." He beckons. "I picked out some owl treats for you. I've already paid."

Holly stutters out some protests, but falls quiet when he shoots her a look. "Thank you."

He nods to acknowledge her. As they walk to the register to get their things Holly notices the snowy owl from earlier sitting in a cage in front of a tall blonde woman, and she feels sad, hoping the owl will be happy with her new owner. They reach the counter, and Magnus grabs the cage and hands it to her, along with a full bag. Holly gasps as understanding dawns on her.

"You're welcome." He says, steering her out of the store as she pens and closes her mouth like a confused fish.

"Holly, there you are!" Ginny comes running for her, and Holly turns to thank the boy again, and say goodbye though she is reluctant to part. Magnus is no where to be seen. "Who's this beauty?"

"Hedwig." Holly decides. "Her name is Hedwig."

* * *

Magnus is exactly who you think he is... Which begs the question what of the Philosopher's Stone, or Quirrel for that matter? Guess you'll have to wait for that answer in another update. Thank you everyone who has bookmarked, commented, subscribe, or left kudos. Much love! ~ Honey


	4. With Great Power

**_Absinthine_ **

**_Honey Latte_ **

**_Chapter Two - With Great Power_**

* * *

Kings Cross is filled to bursting, and Molly weaves them through the crowds expertly, loudly talking about the platform and throwing out words like muggle, things any stranded or confused muggle born kid would be able to latch on to. She does this every year, and Holly imagines in another life she'd have been one of Molly's lost ducklings, following the sound of the yelling woman until they reached the platform, but this year no one chases cautiously after her and one by one Holly and the Weasleys get through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 and onto Platform 9 3/4 to board the train. Goodbyes are made, trunks dragged away, and the Weasleys scatter in their own directions, leaving Holly and the younger twins to find a compartment of their own.

It soon becomes painfully clear that there are no empty compartments. Holly is becoming increasingly agitated by this fact, but a welcome voice cuts through her foul mood like a hot knife through soft butter, melting away her ire and replacing it with butterflies. "Holly, good to see you." Magnus Lestrange greets, and Holy spins around to face him, quite certain her face is red an her hair if Ginny and Ron's snickering is anything to go by.

"M-M-M-Magnus!" She stutters out, becoming more embarrassed with each passing second. "What are you doing here?"

The seventh year boy raises an eyebrow at her, and Holly flushes again because it is obvious what he's doing here on the train to Hogwarts. "Need help finding a compartment?" he asks, luckily choosing to ignore her little blunder.

"They're all taken." Ron answers for her, thank Merlin. "We asked a couple people to join, but we were told they were full. One compartment only had one person in it too, blonde git."

Magnus smirks. "A Malfoy, no doubt." He says musingly. "Well, there's only one thing for it. You can come sit with me in the seventh year section."

They follow after him after the heartfelt gratitude is over with, but at a bit of a distance. With Magnus no longer in hearing distance, the twins take the opportunity to tease her mercilessly, grinning wide enough they look like double Cheshire cats. "So Hols, who's M-M-M-Magnus?" Ginny imitates her earlier stuttering, fanning herself, and she fake swoons into Ron's arms.

Holly punches Ron in the side, making him drop Ginny, something that draws a curious look from Magnus over his shoulder before he continues, giving them the privacy to act their age. She's beyond grateful for this fact. She doesn't even know how she'd explain to Magnus that she has a crush on him. It's Bill's fault really, Holly decides, her crush on him when she was nine, before she'd started to consider them family and the crush went away, ruined her for anyone not totally cool. Magnus, despite being Voldemort's son, is very very cool. They continue ribbing her, laughing as she stutters out excuses and denies having a crush on him. Magnus stops, and they stop mocking her so they can catch up with him, and Holly is relived that she won't have to deal with this until much later.

The compartment is completely empty. "Huh." Holly shrugs. "I sort of expected to meet your friends."

Magnus scratches at the back of his neck. "Don't really have any." He confesses. "I'm a bit of an outcast in my house because I skipped a couple grades, and the other houses aren't particularly fond of Slytherins. Plus, I'm not so good with people."

"Well, we're friends, right?" Holly inquires. Magnus smiles at her, then ruffles her hair, which makes it even messier than before.

"Of course we're friends." He nods.

"Kind of sad." Ron comments sagely. "That your only friend is a first year."

Magnus gives Ron a look, and it sends shivers down Holly's spine with how dark and full of malice it is. "You're welcome to leave anytime you'd like." He snarls, then the smile is back on his face as if nothing happened as he looks to Holly. "Come, let's sit." Suddenly, it is a lot easier to believe Magnus is the son of a death eater and a dark lord.

It's silent at first, too silent, but Ginny eventually breaks through it with a question for the seventh year boy. "So, you're seventeen? What's it like being able to cast magic whenever you like?"

Magnus laughs. "I'm actually only fifteen, sixteen New Years Eve. I skipped a couple years."

The twins look pretty surprised to here that. "Oh, my brother Charlie mentioned that. Didn't know you were _that_ Magnus." Ginny says.

He grins at her. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Holly gives him a deadpan look. "Shortly after I met you I asked Charlie and Bill about you. Did you really blow up the potions lab last year without Snape punishing you?"

The grin he gives them is akin to a shark after prey. "You can do anything with enough blackmail." He says calmly, as if he isn't admitting to a crime punishable with three months in Azkaban in front of three first years.

For some reason that is enough to break the ice though, because from then on the train ride passes in peace and fun. Magnus buys the whole trolley worth of food halfway through the ride, and gets to work on something, Holly isn't exactly sure what but it involves a lot of writing and reading a book with no title, so she tries to keep her siblings quiet-ish while he works since he was kind enough to share his compartment. They are maybe three-quarters of the way there when the door slides open, and a girl with bushy brown hair, big brown eyes, and large front teeth comes in, followed by a round timid looking boy with dark hair, and a confused looking girl with pale blonde hair wrapped into a bun around her wand. "Sorry to bother you," The girl starts, "but, have any of you seen a toad? Neville lost one."

Holly shakes her head, and Ginny and Ron shrug in unison, eerily similar and in sync for once in their life. Magnus smiles. "What's his name?"

"Trevor." The boy says, timidly.

Magnus pulls out his wand, long pale yellow wood and it feels familiar to Holly as her own. "Accio Trevor!" In seconds there is a toad zooming from somewhere on the train to the older boy's outstretched hand, and Holly grins. The boy, Neville most likely, makes a delighted noise and takes his toad with glee. The girl looks annoyed.

"We aren't supposed to do magic." She informs them.

Magnus shrugs. "Yeah, but no one follows that rule anyways." He replies gentley. "Do you know any spells?"

The girl lights up. "Only a little." She says. "I'm muggleborn. I'm probably loads behind everyone else."

Ron laughs. "Nah. most parents don't teach any school magic so we have stuff to learn. Most of what I know is stuff for cleaning, or fixing stuff we break during quidditch."

"Well that's a relief. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and that's Neville and Luna. Who are you." She say all of this very fast, without so much as motioning 

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron mutters.

"Magnus." he says with a wave while he continues to read. "Just Magnus."

"Holly Potter," she introduces, and the girl's eyes go big and excited.

"Are you really?" Hermione gasps. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" says Holly, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," Hermione laughs. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

Holly snorts, she can't help it. "I'm planning for Slytherin."

Luna gives her an odd look, staying just as silent as she has been since her arrival, like a ghost instead of a girl.

"Slytherin? I heard it's filled with really horrible people."

Magnus drops his book in his lap. "I'm a Slytherin."

Hermione flushes bright pink. "Anyway, we'd better go, and you had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

She leaves, dragging away her two companions, and Ron and Ginny leave after her to go to the bathrooms to change, leaving Holly alone with Magnus. She bites her lip.

"I can leave." Magnus says. "But I promise not to look if you decide to change with me in here."

He doesn't even look up from his work. Holly shakes her head anyways. "I actually wanted to ask about your wand." That gets him to look up. Curiosity burns in his eyes. "What kind of wand is it?"

"Yew and phoenix." He answers. "Thirteen and a half inches. Why?"

She shakes, Ollivander's words in her ear. He never actually said he was Voldemort's son, implied it, but never said it. She holds out her wand to him, and as if reading her mind, he hands his over as he takes hers. His eyes alight with wonder, the same that burns below the dread in her heart.

"Sibling wands." He whispers.

Holly nods. "You're not his son." She breathes.

Magnus smiles wide, eyes bleeding red, teeth glinting in the train's light. "No." he confirms. "I'm not."


	5. The Esoteric Holly Potter

_**Absinthine** _

_**Honey Latte** _

_**Chapter Four - The Esoteric Holly Potter** _

* * *

Holly Jacaranda Potter is an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, and triple dipped in absolute chaos. Magnus is left both awestruck and frustrated by her very existence, caught between his instinctual need to murder the girl, and his every growing want to protect her as she worms her way into his cold black heart like a caterpillar eating it's way to the rotten core of an apple. She's stunning, both in the sense of physical beauty despite being young, so young, and in a way far beyond mere looks.

He'd expected her to be terrified by his revelation, she should cower in his pretense knowing who he is, but instead the girl accepts his presence in her life with a shrugs and a witty remark. "Well I guess that's fine, so long as you don't murder me." she'd said on the train, and then she'd proceeded to start changing her robes completely nonchalantly with him still in the compartment, despite his earlier comment having been a joke to get the girl to get a move on.

Now she's sitting on the stool in front of the great hall, and Magnus can't stop fidgeting.

The Girl Who Lived would be sorted into Gryffindor with ease, but Holly Potter is not the girl this world portrays her as. He can see how Holly Potter, this peculiar and almost cold little girl, could be responsible for his death. Quirrel looks towards him, distracting Magnus from the girl on the stool for a moment as pain lances through his chest. The professor is possessed by another version of him, more than likely the one Holly is credited with killing. He wonders if he can keep the girl away from him, but in the end Magnus is only a fraction of that man, and he is his own worst enemy. More than likely he'll have to let it play out and hope the older version of him will spare her. Magnus caresses his wand under his robe, the wand glamoured once more to seem perfectly ordinary now that he's done playing his little game with the fire that is Holly Potter, and he feels a little more secure. Quirrel may possess the main part of his soul, but Magnus possesses their wand, their strength, and their sanity.

Not to mention their dignity, because Magnus would have had to have been dying before he possessed someone as weak as Quirrel. And maybe he is dying, maybe that's why he's here, scheming and plotting as he hangs out on the back of the Professor's skull. If he's correct, he may even be the larger soul piece, because the horcrux in Holly's scar feels much to small and weak to be half his size. He knows there is a diary out there somewhere, and a ring, but Magnus is the third horcrux Voldemort made, and he was supposed to be the last. Harry is likely to be his sixth judging by size and power, and Magnus wonders why Voldemort continued to make Horcruxes after he was made, because they had started to notice a rapid decrease in thought function and rationality before Magnus was separated. Magnus was meant to be his final horcrux.

"Slytherin!" The hat shouts, and Magnus is not the only one shocked, despite how obvious it should have been given what he knows of the girl.

Beaming, the girl who lived runs down to sit right next to him, completely oblivious to the uproar around her, and for once Magnus is glad he'd allowed himself to become so ostracized from his own house that he's forced to sit with the first years instead of with the upperclassmen where he should be sitting. He knows he should kill her, but Holly Potter is his now. Woe to anyone who dares even think of her wrong.

When Holly smiles her absinthe eyes glow like the Avada Kedavra.

Oh yes, he can see why this girl is his equal. 

\--

Holly isn't the only one who ends up unexpectedly in Slytherin. The young Weasley twins follow her, one after the other, though Albus is inclined to believe Ronald had to argue his way after his two sisters because he spent ten minutes on the stool before the sorting hat called him to the house of snakes. He is the second Weasley in the entire history of the Weasley family to be placed in Slytherin, his sister being the first. Albus paces up and down his office worriedly.

Holly is supposed to be in Gryffindor. He'd placed her with the Weasleys so he could make sure she wouldn't stray towards darkness, and instead it seems her darkness has spread to the second set of Weasley twins like a plague spreading through a village. Not to mention she is already far to close with Magnus Lestrange for his old heart to handle. Magnus may not be as cruel and evil as his father, but just the fact that he is Voldemort's son is enough to make Dumbledore wary of him. 

The old headmaster sighs. He's getting too old for this.

Maybe he can convince Hagrid to invite the girl for some tea, to get her settled, and more importantly get a feel for her. He needs to know; is Holly's placement a mistake, something more to do with the horcrux he believes to be in her scar, or is Holly Potter even more lost than he'd known?

It's a puzzle he dreads and looks forward to in equal measure.

He should never have sent her to live with the Dursleys.

\--

Ronald Bilus Weasley has always had a plan to be a Gryffindor, become an auror, and eventually get to be so rich that he never has to eat corned beef sandwich ever again. This has been his goal since he figured out what being poor was, and since he decided that corned beef was the worst kind of sandwich there was. This plan is derailed the moment Holly sits a on the stool and three minute later the Sorting Hat yelled Slytherin.

He should have seen that coming a mile away, none of his brothers or Ginny look confused by her sorting, but Ron is literally just as surprised as everyone else when the hat puts his sister in Slytherin. She ignores the angry buzzing of everyone whispering furiously to each other  as she walks calmly and swiftly to take the seat next to the seventh year boy from the train. Ron doesn't like the look of him, but Holly seems to be close with him.

More surprising than Holly's sorting is when a few short sortings later his twin joins Holly in the hows of snakes. Both of his baby sisters in one house full of evil doers and baby death eaters. Ron won't leave them there all alone, they have no other siblings to defend them.

If that means arguing against the house he wants for ten minutes, and sharing a room with that git Malfoy who calls him a blood traitor every second he can, then so be it. Ron has only two things he loves, his family and chess. The hat may have thought he was better suited for Gryffindor, but you'd better believe Ron will be the best Slytherin boy their dorms have ever seen.

\--

Voldemort watches as Holly Potter joins his house with a sort of surprised glee. Maybe there is hope yet for his little equal. His surprise only grows as she sits next to him, a version of him anyways. The boy is solid, a complete person unlike him, but Voldemort has no clue which of his followers to thank for it. He wonders if the boy will be a threat. Voldemort stifles a yawn. He's already tired from this little observation. He can't wait to get his hands on the stone. Maybe he can use his younger self, but he seems to be strangely fond of the girl-who-lived. 

But why?

What secrets does his little vanquisher have?

What puzzle awaits beyond her sangria hair and bright green eyes?

\--

Draco Malfoy has only two goals for Hogwarts. Become a Slytherin, which he does within seconds because he's got enough ambition to fill the whole of Hogwarts if it were a physical item, and make his father proud by creating connections that would make the dark lord proud when he came back. He searches for Holly Potter as he waits, because he knows it doesn't matter what house she is sorted in, he has to become her friend. Either, by creating an alliance with a light girl so he stab her in the back later, or by creating a friendship with a girl with enough dark power to to kill another dark lord.

Which is why it is so surprising when McGonagal yells for Potter, Holly and a girl he'd dismissed as a Weasley on the train comes walking up to the platform, hair like blood and eyes like his father's absinthe and pale skin to rival his own. Now that he's actually paying attention to her, Holly Potter doesn't even look remotely Weasleyish. He'd dismissed her because she was a red haired girl in a hoard of obvious Weasleys.

"Slytherin!" the hat calls, and Draco grins, making room for her. 

The girl who lived sits down next to a tall, dark, and handsome older Slytherin who is sitting away from the upperclassmen. Magnus she calls him. Draco decides he should write to his father about this, figure out just who this Magnus guy is. Is he an ally, or does Draco need to crush him like a little ant under his Oxfords. For that matter, what of Potter herself? Is she an ally or is she a threat? Draco knows he needs to find out, and soon. 

 


End file.
